I had known Malcolm since childhood, our friendship formed through endless summers racing barefoot through his grandmother’s orchard. Over the years, our lives diverged—university, careers, distance—but we always found our way back to each other. When Malcolm announced he was getting married, I was thrilled. He had once sworn he’d never settle down, but Aurelia had clearly changed that. From what Malcolm told me, she was warm, intelligent, and beautiful.
I had only met her twice before the wedding—once at a dinner party and again at a gallery opening. She was lovely, but something about her felt elusive. Still, Malcolm was completely smitten, and I was happy for him. On the wedding day, I entered the church, filled with the usual joy and excitement. The venue was bathed in candlelight, white orchids lined the pews, and Malcolm stood at the altar, calm and composed. Tristan, his best friend from college, stood by his side. I took my seat, sensing the anticipation in the air.
As the string quartet shifted to mark the bride’s arrival, everyone turned toward the back of the church. Aurelia appeared, her gown shimmering in the soft light, her veil gently falling over her face. But something felt wrong. Her movements were stiff, almost mechanical. She glided down the aisle, but it was as if her feet barely touched the ground. I leaned toward Colette, Malcolm’s cousin, and whispered, “Have you noticed anything strange?”
Colette dismissed my concern with a soft laugh. “It’s just nerves, Adeline.”
But as Aurelia drew closer, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply off. Her posture was rigid, and the way her gown fell around her ankles seemed awkward. It was as though something—or someone—was underneath the dress, hindering her movements.
Suddenly, I stood, brushing past Colette. My instincts screamed that something was wrong. I couldn’t sit back and wait for answers. As I walked toward Aurelia, the guests whispered in confusion. I reached out and gently lifted the hem of her gown, and the collective gasp that followed chilled me to my core. Beneath the fabric were not the bridal heels I expected, but sleek black men’s shoes. As I raised the dress, I saw trousers—narrow hips, a shirt cuff, strong shoulders. This wasn’t a woman. It was a man.
The man in the gown smirked and slowly lifted the veil, revealing a face I didn’t recognize—a stranger, with short brown hair and a mocking grin. The church fell into stunned silence. Malcolm’s voice broke through the tension. “What’s happening?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Tristan stepped forward, a cold smile on his face. “This is your bride,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. The man in the gown nodded toward him. It dawned on me—this was a cruel, orchestrated scheme, with Tristan and the imposter in on it together.
Malcolm’s face contorted in confusion. “Where is Aurelia? What have you done with her?”
The imposter replied smoothly, “She’s fine. Left a few days ago.” He pulled off the wig and veil, flinging them aside. “She wanted you to understand the true meaning of betrayal.”
My stomach churned. Aurelia had discovered Malcolm’s affair with his colleague, Sabine—messages, hotel receipts, everything. Instead of confronting him privately, she had staged this public humiliation. The crowd murmured, some guests leaving in disgust, while others leaned in, captivated by the unfolding drama.
Tristan stepped forward, his voice cold. “Aurelia wanted you to feel what she felt. She wanted you to experience the pain of betrayal.”
Malcolm’s face twisted in disbelief and horror. His eyes sought mine, desperate. “Adeline, please…” he whispered. But I felt just as betrayed as he did. How could I comfort him now?
The imposter walked down the aisle, followed by Tristan, leaving behind a stunned and broken Malcolm. As the crowd buzzed with questions, I placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. He recoiled, and I realized he didn’t want my comfort. The damage was done.
Outside, I pictured Aurelia, far away from this chaos, freed from the lies. She had left Malcolm with a powerful lesson: broken trust doesn’t just fade—it destroys. With a heavy heart, I stepped into the sunlight, leaving my oldest friend to confront the consequences of his actions alone.
